


The World Ends Here

by reliquiaen



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 14:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4629354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reliquiaen/pseuds/reliquiaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Breathing; check. Sight; check. Sensation; check. Yep, still alive." - Post-Apocalypse AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Ends Here

There are things Skye remembers reading in the books deemed appropriate material by the nuns at the orphanage. Things like ‘ruins of the world’ and ‘shadows of civilisation’. Terminology the author picked in an attempt to convey the reality of whatever post-apocalypse new-age-society type world the story was set in. She’d found it pretty stupid at the time, kind of like a dumb what-if scenario that was altogether too dramatic to be taken with even a grain of salt.

Now though.

Well, now she thought differently, didn’t she. It was hard to sit on the edge of a crumbling concrete building, windows all boarded up and doors nailed shut, looking out over what used to be a playground she thought maybe, and tell herself that everything was still going to get better. Almost impossible in point of fact.

There were no kids in the leftovers of the playground. Most of the handles on the monkey bars had rusted off and the swings had no seats. In the distance, a mostly disused train track ran through a field of thriving weeds. Rubbish darted down the streets, carried by a restless breeze through alleys and derelict avenues; skipping as if ashamed past the gaping faces of broken shop fronts.

Unlike in most of the books she recalls, there was no secret underground society of survivors, reconstructing their painful version of civilisation based on whatever a grey-bearded elder with cloudy eyes can remember. No, it’s a free for all. People look out for themselves.

There are no friends in these ruins. And it’s cold, almost always cold, the sunlight never brave enough to do more than glance through the hazy clouds perpetually filling the sky with grey. More grey, she should say. Everything is grey. Hardly any colour is left in the world thanks to the overcast. Plants died, animals died, humanity was in the process of dying.

Nothing but brown weeds and whatever colours can be found in the remains of shops. Sometimes, Skye tugs on the vibrant clothing, just to try it. But she never wears it outside. It would be too hard to fade into the shadows if she were wearing… oh say, that bright green button down and the yellow and black coat she found the other day.

She sighed, leaning back until she was flat against the roof of the building, legs still dangling, watching the clouds scud across that baleful cauldron. Sometimes she wondered if there was a place anywhere that was safe. But not enough to actually prompt her to leave. She would much rather risk the bandits and gangs in the city than try crossing any of the open space between where she was and somewhere else. And the suburbs were hardly safe either.

Better to stay where she was.

And with that thought, she rolled to her feet and headed for the escape ladder she used to climb up. It was missing a handful of rungs around the middle so most people didn’t bother to try and get up there. But Skye knew she could use the crumbling window ledge to give herself a boost and make it. Not that there was really anything up there worth the effort, but it was nice to have a place all to herself.

That made her chuckle softly. As if she wasn’t alone all day every day.

She kept off the streets as much as possible. In spite of what others seemed to think, the alleys were actually the least safe places to be. Side streets and blind corners were the perfect locations to set up an ambush. So for the most part she stuck to the main streets, using shops to keep out of sight. Plenty had walls that had collapsed anyway so she could usually just pass between them without stepping outside. Plus, bonus points, she had heaps of places to hide if someone came along.

Honestly, Skye was nearly back to her little corner of the world when she heard the cry and she knew better. She did. You don’t help people; you mind your own business. That’s how to survive. Don’t get caught up in the troubles of others.

Don’t be a hero.

And yet even though she ducked her head the first time and kept right on walking, the second time she heard the call it sounded closer. And female. And terrified.

Yes, of course, it was probably a trap. All sorts of scenarios flitted through her head in quick succession. It could be a pleading girl being mugged tugging at heart strings and playing to the softer side of humanity in passers-by when actually she and her ‘attackers’ were working together. Or even just a girl without the muggers at all, waiting until her supposed rescuer’s defences were lowered to strike. Possibly a child that Skye definitely didn’t have the resources to take care of.

But then she heard it a third time and she stuck her head around the corner to just take a peek, what harm could come of looking?

A man, tall and hooded, sleeves pushed up his tattooed arms to the elbow had a young woman pinned to the grimy wall and she definitely seemed distressed. Her eyes wide, hands prying at his fingers, tears sliding down her cheeks. Skye couldn’t see the man’s other hand, but she knew how this scene played out.

For all of five seconds she planned to keep on stepping. Don’t be a hero.

And yet somehow she found herself striding down the alley anyway. She always travelled armed; a baton she’d found in a mall not far away, probably belonged to some cop who hadn’t made it. It didn’t matter because to her it was life. She snapped it open.

“Hey,” she shouted, catching his attention. As he turned, Skye brought the baton down across his face. The guy’s nose made a horrible cracking sound and she was pretty sure that flash of white was a tooth flying loose. He crumpled to the ground.

Skye lifted her eyes to give the still trembling girl a once over and then backpedalled. She’d nearly made it to the corner from which she’d started. Nearly. So close.

“Hey.” The voice was quiet, little more than a whisper. But in the unnatural hush of the city it sounded way too loud and Skye jumped. The woman had apparently hurried after her, following quickly. “Thank you.”

Skye shook her head. “Just go.”

The woman bit her lip. “I… I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Her feet shuffled to a stop and the woman just about walked into her. “Are you English?” she asked against her better judgement. “How did you get here?”

“I lived here,” the woman told her flatly. “In the States, I mean. Not this city.”

“Wait.” Skye reached out to touch the woman almost on instinct, making sure she was real. “You’re not from here? Not from this city?”

That earned a quizzical expression. “No? It’s not this bad elsewhere,” she went on softly. “Up north it’s more colourful.”

“What are you doing down here then?”

“Looking for a friend. He…” she trailed off, but Skye could fill in the blanks just fine. She knew what happened to people.

“That sucks. You should probably go right back where you came from then.” And with that she turned to keep walking.

She didn’t make it far. “I’m Jemma.”

Skye winced, hunching her shoulders. “What?”

“My name. Jemma Simmons.”

“I figured that much,” she said with an eye roll. “I mean… what are you… Why are you telling me this? It’s hardly safe.”

“Are you going to attack me?”

“No.”

“Then it’s safe.”

“You don’t…” Skye sighed, running a hand through her hair. “You don’t tell people things okay? Not here. It’s a sure way to get yourself killed.”

“Why do you stay then?” Jemma wondered.

“Because leaving is a sure way to get killed too.”

Skye stopped then, only just realising that she’d kept walking back to her shelter and now Jemma knew where she lived. That was _definitely_ not safe. For a moment she dithered, weighing her options. But the sun was setting and it wasn’t even vaguely safe out at night so she sighed and ducked inside her hovel. After a beat, Jemma followed.

The space she called her own was only small, big enough for one. With Jemma as well it felt decidedly cramped. The room was made mostly from the walls of a collapsed supermarket. A roller door – jammed – stuck through on one corner, but the roof of the building had come down and formed a tiny little triangular room. There was a gap into the supermarket itself that Skye used to get produce and bedding but she mostly avoided it. Sometimes people were there looking for anything of use. There wasn’t much really, Skye had claimed as much of the tinned produce as she could, anything that would last really. It formed a rather impressive stack against one of the three walls. The point where the roller door didn’t quite reach around to the other side was covered by a tattered tarpaulin.

It wasn’t much, but it was safer than an apartment. They were too obvious.

Jemma’s eyes flicked around, taking it all in. From the food to the tunnel to the small collection of books to the bedding. Humble was the word Skye used in her head; to someone else it probably looked like squalor.

Neither of them spoke. Not for a long time. Skye busied herself rearranging the sheets and cushions so Jemma would have somewhere to sleep. The whole time, she was electrically aware of Jemma’s gaze on her.

“Why did you save me?”

The words punctuated their quiet so profoundly that Skye actually twitched. “Excuse me?”

“You said before that it’s not safe to talk to people,” Jemma went on, obviously having extrapolated. “So you don’t interact with others. And there was graffiti on one of the walls we walked past…”

“No one is a hero,” Skye mumbled, knowing instinctively which one she meant. “Heroes don’t last.”

She glanced up to catch Jemma nodding her agreement. “So why save me?”

So many answers filled her head. _Because you needed it. Because I’m not heartless. Because I want to believe there is still good. Because I need to believe that not all is hopeless_. In the end she settled for a wry grin. “Because you’re cute.” She paused just long enough for Jemma to flush slightly. “Definitely too cute to get dead.”

Jemma made a small sound, but from the way she was looking at Skye, all the other things had been audible in her voice. “Well thank you.” And she paused; Skye noted the colour still tinting her cheeks. “And… and you’re cute too. So I guess that’s something,” she mumbled.

“Shucks.” With that, Skye held up two tins of food. “What do you feel like? I’ve got fruit salad,” she waved one tin. “Or baked beans.”

Jemma wrinkled her nose. “That’s it?”

“Well there are a few tins of fish as well, but they require a fire and I don’t want to be lighting one of them tonight,” Skye explained.

“Why?”

She bobbed her head. “Well, the guy whose head I cracked saving you probably has friends somewhere who will be looking for a little payback. It’s best not to draw attention to yourself when the gangs get angry.”

“Oh.” She fiddled with the can of fruit Skye passed her awkwardly. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay. It happens. Honestly, it’s best to know when they’re on a rampage,” Skye admitted. “Otherwise they could just appear and that’s bad news.”

Jemma gave her a wan grin at that. Then they lapsed back into silence and once they were finished eating most of the light had faded from the sky; what little of it there was to begin with. So Skye flopped onto her nest of cushions and closed her eyes.

“Don’t stick me in my sleep, okay?” she muttered.

“I won’t.”

“And don’t call down any of the gang dudes. And don’t go outside.”

“Alright.” Somehow that single word sounded amused.

Skye wrestled internally for a prolonged beat before adding in a tentative voice, “Skye.”

Another moment. Then Jemma whispered, “Thank you.”

Skye felt her settle on the bedding as well and decided that it was actually rather nice to have someone to share things with. Maybe. If she was still alive in the morning that is.

 

* * *

 

Breathing; check. Sight; check. Sensation; check. Yep, still alive.

And Jemma was still there too, curled up beside her, one arm under her head and the hand of the other caught in Skye’s shirt. For some reason Skye couldn’t quite put her finger on, she thought that maybe there was a little more sunlight filtering past her tarp than usual. Maybe she was just being fanciful and stupid.

Or maybe – far more likely – it was just that she was really looking at Jemma now and she wasn’t just _cute_. Her features were relaxed and soft and the tear tracks from yesterday were gone and she was just gorgeous. Skye’s heart did some silly flip flop thing and she sighed, trying to wiggle away carefully.

Her movement must have been too profound because Jemma’s eyes opened. Her whole face smiled at Skye when she realised where she was though and _that_ sure didn’t help.

“Good morning.”

“Yeah,” Skye agreed. “It is.”

For at least a solid minute they lay there, just watching each other. Skye wanted to ask if she was leaving, wanted to ask if she had plans or something, what she was doing for the rest of her life. But she didn’t. That might be weird.

Jemma must not have minded that possibility. “Come with me.”

Skye blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“I can’t stay here,” Jemma expanded, her expression falling into something neutral and unreadable. “It’s too… It’s not a nice place. I have friends elsewhere. So I’ll go back. Come with me.” Her sentences were short, like maybe her thoughts weren’t quite joined together the right way, or maybe she couldn’t explain why she wanted Skye to accompany her.

It didn’t really matter. Truly, the idea wasn’t one that was hard to sell to Skye. “Okay.”

Jemma’s face exploding in another grin. “Really?”

“I’ve got nowhere else to be. And who can turn a pretty girl down?”

Jemma’s nose scrunched up, but her mouth curved into a pleased little smile. “It might be dangerous…” she suggested as if that alone would convince Skye not to do this.

“I’ll keep you safe,” she laughed. “You made it here just far,” Skye added, not liking the small crease between Jemma’s brows. “How hard can it be?”

“Those are famous last words, right there,” Jemma noted flatly. But she rolled upright in the cramped space and eyed the food. “How much of this do you suppose we can take?”

“There are backpacks in the supermarket,” Skye told her, nodding in the direction she meant. “Pack them full of tins and water bottles and we’re set.”

“I’m taking some of these books too,” Jemma informed her.

“Alright. I’ll get some bags.” Skye edged towards the gap in the wall, already planning the fastest and safest route.

Jemma’s voice stopped her. “Skye, wait.” She turned just as the other woman leaned in and _obviously_ she messed up everything because Jemma’s lips met hers and then there was a little squeaking noise and as much space between them as physics would allow. “Sorry. I was aiming for your cheek.”

Skye grinned. “It’s fine. You can try again when I get back.”

“Oh.” But Jemma offered her a shy smile anyway. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Skye skulked around the first corner, but no one was in sight. So with more haste (and accompanying noise) than she would normally allow herself, she raced around the store. Four bags, two hats, an umbrella and a collection of water bottles later, she was sliding back through the gap. She had to make two trips and then the room was _very_ crowded. But Jemma had the tinned food in nice order by that point so obviously it had been just long enough.

“I thought books in one,” Skye said, indicating the bags. “Food in one, water in one and some of the bedding in another.”

Jemma nodded. “I like the sound of that.”

They cobbled together the items and stuffed them in the bags haphazardly. Jemma vetoed the beans. But she produced a lighter from one pocket and insisted on bringing the fish with. Skye was more than happy to comply. She even pulled the tarp from its home and rolled it up with the bedding. Just in case.

When they were done Skye looked down at their four knapsacks and realised all the things she had in life were tucked away in them. That knowledge was sort of depressing considering she could remember the time before this, back when electricity still worked reliably and water ran from taps and people wore smiles regularly. She’d had more items then, living in the orphanage than she did now.

But then she looked up at Jemma who was watching her with a funny little smile on her face. Maybe… just _maybe_ , she might have more eventually.

“So,” Skye said, hoisting one bag up onto her back and slinging the other across a shoulder. “Did you want to try that again?”

It must have taken Jemma a moment to figure out what she meant, but when she did her face went red. “Oh. Um…”

“It’s okay,” Skye told her, tilting her face so her cheek faced Jemma. “Lay it on me. I can take it.”

But when Jemma tentatively closed the distance Skye did the same thing she’d done before. Only this time her hand caught Jemma’s cheek and she was prepared to kiss back. And this time, Jemma didn’t make a surprised noise like she’d been caught doing something awful, she just leaned into it, fingers curling against Skye’s hip.

She did say, “Oh,” again in that breathy voice when they parted though.

Skye beamed. “Yeah. Oh is right.” Slowly – carefully – she tilted her head to kiss Jemma once more, soft and fast. “We should get going.”

Jemma hummed.

Yeah. Ruins of the world, shadows of whatever, all that nonsense was fine and dandy. But Skye had been _lonely_ and it was really nice to have someone’s hand to hold. Someone to keep her warm at night. Someone who smiled at her.

The apocalypse could bite her.


End file.
